


cut through the clouds (cut to the feeling)

by knightspur



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Graduate School, M/M, Makeup, Multiple Orgasms, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sex Toys, Surprises, is there a tag for having sex in your teenage bedroom with your boyfriend?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-07-30 09:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/knightspur
Summary: Through the phone, Mingyu can hear the light tap of his footsteps on the old floors of their apartment. If he shuts his eyes he can picture Minghao making the familiar journey from the couch to their bedroom, always moving light and lithe on the balls of his feet.It’s not a surprise to find that he misses Minghao. The distance is like a toothache.





	cut through the clouds (cut to the feeling)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [figure8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/gifts).
  * Inspired by [so put it on me (talking body)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547695) by [figure8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8). 

> i never know what to say in these kinds of notes but thanks for the chance to get my grimy little claws on some figure8 fic.... i had fun with it, i hope you enjoy... this is supposed to be a loose follow-up to the first 2 fics. i wanted to keep the feeling of being kinda slice of life feeling they had-- a very long, lived in relationship represented in small moments in their shared life. 
> 
> also , minghao topping , because DESERVE.
> 
> love you <3

Mingyu is supposed to have gotten used to Minghao over the years. They’ve been together in some form or another for half a decade now.

It’s true that Mingyu knows him now. All of Minghao’s habits have become part of his daily routine. He can tell Minghao’s mood by the way he breathes. Mingyu knows Minghao all the way down to the number of times his heart beats in a day.

But Mingyu has never gotten used to him; he’s never become immune.

So, Minghao sitting on the end of their bed and glaring at him is just as effective as it was the day they first met.

“You know, I don’t want to go either,” Mingyu says, focusing on his suitcase instead of the miffed look on Minghao’s face. It does his heart no good and he only has a few hours before he has to board his plane.

“Then don’t go,” Minghao says, his arms crossed. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. “Everything is already booked.”

“It’s a family reunion,” Minghao says, tossing his head back and rolling his eyes. “You should skip it.”

“Baby.” Mingyu flips his suitcase shut, shaking his head. Minghao’s eyebrows furrow together but when Mingyu steps closer, he tilts his head back the way he does when he wants to be kissed.

So Mingyu bows his head and kisses his mouth once— twice— his hands on either side of Minghao’s jaw.

“It’s our anniversary next week,” Minghao says, his mouth against Mingyu’s still. His bitterness on the subject hasn’t been forgotten, it seems.

“I know,” Mingyu says, his thumb following Minghao’s jaw.

“And you’re leaving,” Minghao says, leaning back and shaking his head.

Mingyu drops his hand and groans, leaning his forehead against Minghao’s shoulder. “I didn’t pick the date,” he says, grasping one of Minghao’s hands. “You can’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Minghao says, breathing out a sigh. Mingyu picks his head up, daring to smile at him just a little bit.

“I’m mad,” Minghao continues, falling dramatically back on the bed. “I’m just not mad _at_ you.”

Minghao laughs, his hand following the exposed curve of Minghao’s hip where his shirt rides up. The notch of his bone is familiar, Mingyu knows exactly where to rest his hands and press his thumbs in.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” Mingyu says, pushing Minghao’s shirt up around his ribs. Minghao breathes shallowly, his hand gripping idly at Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Not right now you aren’t,” Minghao says, holding onto him rather than pushing him away. “You don’t have time for that.”

Objectively, Minghao is right that they don’t have enough time. Subjectively, Mingyu wants to put his mouth on Minghao’s ribs, right where they’re ticklish. He spends a moment weighing the two options before Minghao decides for him. He sits up again, pushing Mingyu back gently.

“I have to finish packing,” Mingyu says, reluctant, guilty.

“I know,” Minghao says. 

“I don’t wanna go,” Mingyu says. He hates the idea of leaving with Minghao mad at him more than anything else. The last tough edge to Minghao’s expression falls away and he sighs, ruffling his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“I know that too,” he says. He kisses the corner of Mingyu’s mouth before shoving himself off the bed and out of Mingyu’s arms. “Finish packing up. It’d be a shame if you missed your flight.”

Minghao saunters off out of the room, probably to sit on the couch and sulk. Mingyu sighs and goes back to his suitcase.  


* * *

  
It isn’t that Minghao isn’t welcome— Mingyu wants him along almost as much as he doesn’t want to leave home. Minghao has met his parents before. 

But the dates line up with enough assignments that Minghao can’t leave town for ten days just to be exhausted by Mingyu’s extended family.

Mingyu flies home by himself, sends Minghao a handful of messages after his flight and collapses into the narrow bunk of his bed in a half-conscious heap.

He has a dream that he’s trying to cook a feast for Minghao for their anniversary and ends up burning everything.  


* * *

  
For the first two days of his trip, Mingyu is so busy with aunts and uncles and cousins and babies that he doesn’t even have the time to realize how much he misses Minghao.

Usually, they travel together.

But he manages to slip out of watching another romantic comedy with his mom and sister in favor of trudging up the stairs to call Minghao.

“Oh my god, you’re still alive,” Minghao says when he picks up the phone, abandoning a proper greeting. Mingyu laughs, stretching out on the bed with a smile.

“Hey baby,” Mingyu says, one arm behind his head to prop it up. “Did you plan my funeral yet?”

“Wonwoo and I can’t agree on the floral arrangement,” Minghao says. Mingyu can hear the smile in his voice and it makes his chest warm. “Seriously, I thought I was never gonna hear from you again.”

“I texted you this morning,” Mingyu says, shaking his head.

“That doesn’t count,” Minghao shoots back, almost cutting Mingyu off. “And it was _yesterday_ morning.”

“Are you still busy?” Mingyu asks, trying to distract Minghao from scolding him for the rest of the night. “How’s your project?”

“It’s okay,” Minghao says. “Nothing’s wrong with it, I guess.”

“Not perfect?”

“Not yet,” Minghao says. Mingyu can hear the light tap of his footsteps on the old floors of their apartment. If he shuts his eyes he can picture Minghao making the familiar journey from the couch to their bedroom, always moving light and lithe on the balls of his feet.

It’s not a surprise to find that he misses Minghao. The distance is like a toothache.

“You should send me some pictures,” Mingyu says, peeling his eyes open once again.

Staying in this room is always a little odd. It still has the same soft blue sheets that Mingyu used all through college and his high school interests still decorate the walls. His bass is here, still missing a string from the last time he tried to play it. It’s become a nostalgic mishmash over the years, catching little bits of Mingyu’s life at every stage and holding them like a time capsule.

“Should I?” Minghao asks, his voice dropping to a purr. Mingyu blinks twice, realizing too late… 

“Of— you know, your painting,” Mingyu says, praying his voice doesn’t squeak. “So I can help.”

Minghao hums and Mingyu can hear the sound of their sheets rustling on the other end.

“Or not.” He clears his throat. “If you’re already in bed.”

"It's afternoon," Minghao says, amused. "I'm making an exception for you."

"What kind of exception?" Mingyu asks, his heart kicking up the pace in his chest. 

"You haven't told me you miss me yet," Minghao says, his pretty pout carrying across in his voice. "You miss me, don't you, Mingyu?" 

"Yeah," Mingyu says. He wishes he could lean all the way across the world and kiss the jut of Minghao's bottom lip. "Of course I miss you, baby."

"Good," Minghao says, drawing his voice out long and soft. "Are you in your room now?" 

Mingyu hums in confirmation, his eyes half-open. He could fall asleep listening to Minghao's voice like this. That is if he ignores the pool of heat in the pit of his stomach. The wanting that always ignites when it comes to Minghao. 

"You know if you were here I was gonna do something special," Minghao says, his voice scraping Mingyu's nerves. "I had it all planned out." 

"Minghao." Mingyu's voice comes out in a whine. "This isn't fair."

"You don't wanna hear about it?" Minghao says. 

"When I get back we can…" Mingyu says, trailing off when Minghao sighs into the phone.

"I let Jeonghan take me shopping," Minghao says, ignoring Mingyu's protests entirely. "You might faint when you see it."

Last time Minghao and Jeonghan when looking for a surprise, Mingyu spent the whole night watching Minghao flounce around in a skirt, red lace panties hidden underneath. 

It's embarrassing how easy it is for Minghao to get him so worked up. He wants to smash his face into the pillows and shout. There are plenty of memories to fill in the gaps. 

"You should get comfortable," Minghao says. "Settled in."

Mingyu takes the hint. He traps his phone against his ear with his shoulder and jams his thumbs into the waist of his sweatpants, shoving them down his hips. 

"Okay," Mingyu says, shoving the heel of his hand against the tent of his dick in his boxers. "I'm…" He sighs, tilting his head back. "I'm good." 

"You always are," Minghao says, cooing. For once, Mingyu doesn't tease him for being corny. 

"I bet it's something pretty," Mingyu says, squeezing his eyes shut. "Lace?" 

"White," Minghao says. Mingyu sighs, curling his fingers around his dick, thin fabric still in the way. "It's soft, too. You're gonna lose your mind."

“Minghao…” His name hisses out from between Mingyu’s teeth and turns into a whine when it hits the air. It’s harder to breathe than it should be. The humid, sticky air of his bedroom sits heavy in his lungs. “Can I see you, at least? Now?”

“I’m not wearing it now,” Minghao says. Mingyu isn’t sure he’s going to survive to the end of this phone call, let alone another 6 days.

Mingyu’s phone chimes against his ear to inform him of a notification and he pulls it away, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

True to his word, Minghao is stretched out on their bed in one of Mingyu’s old shirts. Vibrant hues of paint dot his hands and arms with bright blues and purples. He’s sitting up still, one arm draped over his knees, holding them close to his chest. His chin is on his arm, favoring the camera with a slight pout that Mingyu can’t help but stare at.

As far as Mingyu can tell from the picture, the shirt is the only thing Minghao is wearing.

“Were you painting naked?” Mingyu asks, grinning a little. It feels good to see him, even just represented by pixels on a screen. It’s like something missing clicking back into place in his chest.

“Maybe,” Minghao says, laughing a little. “Who knows what I do when you’re not around?”

“You go shopping for lingerie and won’t even show it to me,” Mingyu says, frowning.

“You’ll see it later,” Minghao says. Mingyu can picture the quick roll of his eyes. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

Minghao loves surprises. He has a knack for getting them to go off without a hitch.

“What about you?” He asks when Mingyu only replies with a huff of displeasure.

“Me?” Mingyu asks, frowning.

“A picture of you,” Minghao says. “Don’t play shy with me.”

There is something about the nostalgia of the room that makes Mingyu embarrassed. It’s not like this is out of the ordinary. Mingyu is practiced at taking pictures only to drive Minghao out of his mind. Minghao has done the same thing. He’s doing it now with the paint on his arms and the stretch of one bare thigh.

It’s not like Mingyu didn’t let Minghao shoot him naked once. He fumbled Mingyu’s old point-and-shoot in one hand, the other wrapped around Mingyu’s cock. Mingyu had one arm covering his eyes, hand pulling at his hair. Mortified and delighted at the same time. Giddy— dizzy— a little scared.

In the end, all the pictures Minghao took only show his face and his shoulders, sometimes a peek of his chest. He could be laughing save for the way his head is thrown back and sweat beads at the hollow of his throat. Everything else fades away softly in the background. He tossed the camera to the other side of the bed and kissed Mingyu before he came. They forgot to turn the camera off and Minguy couldn’t find the cord again— 

“Mingyu?” Minghao breaks through the rush of Mingyu’s thoughts. “Did your call—”

“No,” Mingyu says, clearing his throat. He sits up in a sudden rush, fiddles around until he has the camera open and takes the best picture he can manage in a few quick shots.

“Did your sister get you drunk?” Minghao says, still low but almost laughing.

The pictures Minghao took are on an SD card, forgotten in the drawer of Mingyu’s desk.

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says. He opens the camera again and takes another picture. This time just his face and his neck, the soft light that makes his skin glow. He sends that to Minghao. It makes him a little dizzy this time, too.

Minghao makes a sound when he opens it— a wounded catch in his throat.

“I miss you,” Mingyu says. A ludicrous amount.

“I know,” Minghao says, his voice ragged around the edges. “Me too.”  


* * *

  
“Get in the car,” Minkyung says, her hands on Mingyu’s shoulder, trying to push him off the couch.

“I’m not buying you anything,” Mingyu says, pushing his weight back against her hands. “Beg someone else.”

“I didn’t say I want anything from you,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I said get in the car. I’m driving.”

Mingyu picks himself up with a long sigh, shooting his little sister a sour look. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she says, a grin on her face. “Strict orders.”

“Orders from who?” Mingyu says, sighing. This must be someone’s idea of a game. Mingyu is too tired to keep up. He’s been on babysitting duty for the majority of the trip and the moment all the relatives are gone from the house, all Mingyu wants to do is go to sleep.

“I can’t tell you that either,” she says, twisting her arm through Mingyu’s. “Let’s go.”

Mingyu allows himself to be loaded into the passenger seat of her car. He tries fiddling the radio to a different station— something less aggressively poppy— but Minkyung smacks his hand away.

“It’s strange, all in all. Minkyung is impulsive— the things she does aren’t usually planned out in advance and she doesn’t take orders from anyone. Resigned to no answer, Mingyu sinks back in his seat and tries texting Minghao again instead.

He hasn’t heard back from his boyfriend all day. It’s not weird— he probably abandoned his phone in another room while he was painting and hasn’t heard any of the messages.

When he still doesn’t answer, Mingyu gives up and sings along to whatever comes on the radio. Badly, trying to annoy Minkyung into changing it.

“Are you gonna ditch me at the airport?” Mingyu asks, watching the exits go by. His trip isn’t even half over.

“Who said anything about the airport?” Minkyung says, her eyes still on the road. Mingyu sighs, rolling his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat.

“Are we picking up some uncle I’ve never met?” Mingyu says, folding his arms over his chest.

“Something like that.” There’s a smile on her face now. “He’s old. Covered in warts. You’ll like him.”

They pull into the arrivals section and Minkyung parks along the curb. Mingyu pulls at the seatbelt over his chest, not sure if he should be getting out of the car or not. Minkyung turns off the engine and flicks her wrist at him.

“Well,” she says, lifting her eyebrows. “Go inside.”

“I don’t know who I’m looking for,” Mingyu says, whining a little.

“That’s the point,” she says, leaning back and turning the music up.

Resigned, Mingyu unbuckles his seatbelt and goes in through the sliding glass doors. There are a lot of people milling around in the arrivals lounge, most of them grouped around the luggage carousel.

Mingyu feels silly, standing in the middle of the hall with his hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting but not sure what he’s waiting for. He’s scanning the crowd for a bent old man, someone who looks like he could be part of the extended family.

What he spots, instead, is a familiar splash of silky black hair and a cream-colored hoodie that he distinctly remembers spending way too much of his paycheck on. Minghao groused at him for how much it cost but wears it all the time anyway, the strings tied in a neat bow in the front.

He grabs his bag from the belt and turns around. As soon as he spots Mingyu standing there his face lights up.

Mingyu is too stunned to react properly. It isn’t until Minghao is right in front of him, reaching out to take his hand.

“What’re you doing here?” He says, his ears ringing faintly. “You’re here?”

“I’m here,” Minghao says. There are dark hollows under his eyes— jetlag trying to catch him. Mingyu puts both arms around him and crushes Minghao against his chest, face buried in the side of his neck.

He can’t see Minghao smiling from this position, but he can hear the sound of it in his voice. “I missed you too.”

Mingyu laughs, kissing the side of his neck.

“I can’t believe you flew all the way here,” Mingyu says, standing upright reluctantly. Minkyung might get it in her head that she can just leave the two of them here if they take too long. He takes Minghao’s suitcase, pulling it along and squeezing Minghao’s hand tight.

“You skipped out on your assignments?” Mingyu says, anxiety chewing at his stomach. Minghao shakes his head, pressing his thumb to the soft inside of Mingyu’s wrist.

“I finished,” Minghao says, chuckling. “It’s faster when the place is empty.”

Mingyu is too happy to see him to start pouting over the little jab. They climb into the car— Mingyu in the front seat even though he would rather be in the back with Minghao’s head on his shoulder. He looks exhausted.

Minghao stays awake until they get back to Mingyu’s family home, leaning his head on the window and keeping up a spirited conversation with Minkyung from the back.

The house is forgivingly dark and quiet when they return, not crowded with extended family members waiting to ask Mingyu and his boyfriend dozens of questions. Mingyu carries both of Minghao’s bags inside and up the stairs. Minghao rolls his eyes at the show of strength. Mingyu feels like he’s home again.

“This is cute,” Minghao says, standing in the doorway and looking Mingyu’s room over. Mingyu looks around and shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. He sets Minghao’s luggage down in the same corner his has been occupying.

“It’s old,” Mingyu says. Minghao laughs, sitting down at the end of the bed. His eyes are still on the knick-knacks gathering dust in the room— trophies from when Mingyu did sports as a kid, posters for bands that he doesn’t really listen to anymore. He runs his fingers over the sheets and tilts his head back when he laughs, exposing the long pale lines of his throat.

“I remember these,” Minghao says, lifting his eyebrows. “You kept _these_ sheets?”

“They’re clean,” Mingyu says, the tips of his ears red. He remembers too. The first time Minghao fucked him he buried his face in the cool cotton sheets and refused to budge, no matter how much Minghao complained about wanting to see his face. 

Mingyu looks around the room, trying to find something else to focus on. It doesn’t work— Minghao is like a magnet, pulling Mingyu’s attention back and refusing to let go of it.

“It’s cute in here,” Minghao says, laughing. He pats the bed next to him, lifting his eyebrows in Mingyu’s direction. “Are you shy now?”

“No,” Mingyu says, half-sour. He sits on the bed, almost on top of Minghao’s hand. Minghao rolls his eyes, pulling it out of the way and giving Mingyu’s shoulder a push.

Before he topples over sideways, Mingyu grabs Minghao and pulls him along. They end up flat on the bed, both laughing, Minghao’s breath warm against the side of Mingyu’s neck.

Mingyu starts to sit up but Minghao reaches out to stop him, twisting his fingers in the worn cotton of Mingyu’s shirt. Mingyu’s breath comes up short, turning his head to face Minghao.

“You look tired,” Mingyu says, reaching out to cup his palm around the side of Minghao’s face.

“It’ll pass,” Minghao says. He shifts his grip from Mingyu’s shirt to his wrist, a little sparkle in his eyes. “Does your sister hang out up here?”

“Downstairs,” Mingyu says, a creak in his voice. Minghao grins, turning his head so Mingyu’s thumb resting at the corner of his mouth.

Out of habit, Mingyu’s jaw drops slightly, parting his lips like he’s planning on wrapping them around Minghao’s thumb. It’s not far off the mark and Minghao grins at him like he’s realized it too.

“You don’t wanna shower?” Mingyu says, nervous laughter cutting through his words. “It’ll help you relax…” 

Minghao hums, more in consideration than agreement. The smile on his face is crooked, conspiratorial. “Are you gonna tuck me in too?”

“Of course.” Mingyu nods, tilting his head forward to nip once at the tip of Minghao’s finger, making him laugh.

“Fine,” Minghao says, kissing the center of Mingyu’s forehead. “Maybe I’ll show you the surprise after.”

Mingyu’s breath gets caught in the back of his throat. Minghao slips out of his grasp and into the bathroom before Mingyu can push for answers. Before he can ask if Minghao really put whatever white lace _thing_ he picked out with Jeonghan in his suitcase and brought it along.

He could take the chance to snoop around while Minghao is showering but he would rather let Minghao keep surprising him. Mingyu falls back flat on the bed with a groan, turning his head to stare impatiently at Minghao’s zippered-shut suitcase.  


* * *

  
The wait is much longer than Mingyu anticipated.

After Minghao got out of the shower, Mingyu’s parents came home and insisted on taking them out for dinner. And after dinner, a handful of Mingyu’s cousins suggested getting drinks. By the time he and Minghao were in bed again, Minghao was only awake enough to cover Mingyu’s face in giddy, messy kisses and mumble a few affections against his mouth before falling asleep.

Mingyu doesn’t mind, of course, except the curiosity is starting to drive him crazy.

In the morning, when Minghao has his suitcase open to pull out fresh clothes, Mingyu catches sight of something scant and white that gets quickly shoved down to the bottom before Mingyu can ask about it.

Of the two of them, Mingyu has always been slow to get out of bed. When Minghao is clean and changed, Mingyu is still trying to drag himself upright. He reaches out to snag one arm around Minghao’s waist, reeling him back toward the bed. 

“Oh, you’re up?” Minghao asks, pushing Mingyu’s messy bangs out of his face. Mingyu grunts, burying his face against Minghao’s tummy. Minghao’s long fingers scratch at his scalp.

“Kinda,” Mingyu says, his voice still rough with sleep. “Not really.”

“You’re gonna show me around today, right?” Minghao says, skimming his finger over the shell of Mingyu’s ear. Mingyu nods, though he’s more focused at the moment with slipping his hands under Minghao’s shirt and feeling the warm, bare skin beneath.

Everything about being in this house— in this room— makes him feel like a teenager again. He pulls Minghao in another step closer, lifting the hem of Minghao’s shirt out of the way to mouth at the arch of his hip, tongue leaving a damp trail on his skin.

Minghao laughs, his fingers going tight in Mingyu’s hair, giving it a tug.

“That means leaving the house,” he says, still letting Mingyu’s mouth move in a trail across his stomach. “With clothes on.”

Mingyu nods but doesn’t stop. His hands slide over Minghao’s ribs, thumbs following the slight ridge of his ribs. He can feel Minghao shiver, fisting one hand at the back of Mingyu’s head. The weight of it is familiar and habit makes Mingyu drop his attention lower. He digs his fingers in the waist of Minghao’s tight jeans and inches them lower, mouthing over the skin there as well.

“You’re a pain.” Minghao lets out a harsh sigh, shaking his head. Mingyu pulls his pants a little lower and catches a peek of something different from what he’s expecting. 

Minghao has done this before. Mingyu isn’t unfamiliar with the sight of him in panties. But Minghao nudges him back by the shoulder before Mingyu gets anything more than a bare peek of the white lace waistband of _something_ wrapped around his hips.

His hand is still in Mingyu’s hair, this time holding him back. He does these things on purpose— Mingyu knows it. It isn’t enough to walk around all day in Mingyu’s home town with something like that on. It’s not enough unless Mingyu knows he’s doing it too. He delights in tormenting Mingyu and he flaunts it in ways only meant for Mingyu to see.

“Baby,” Mingyu says, pained. He still has both hands on Minghao’s hips, refusing to let go of him.

“We should get going,” Minghao says, a smile on his face. 

Mingyu opens his mouth to argue— everything they could see _today_ will definitely be there _tomorrow_ but Minghao puts a hand on his jaw and rolls his eyes.

“Do you think I flew all the way here to stay inside and fuck you all day?” Minghao asks, raising his eyebrows. Mingyu is inclined to say yes, just to see if it improves his chances.

“Alright,” Mingyu says. He knows when he’s beat. “Let me get dressed.”  


* * *

  
There are two problems with this arrangement.

The first is Mingyu, who has a hard time taking his eyes off of Minghao all day long. It may not be the most he’s ever stared at Minghao’s ass in a single day, but it must be top-three. He narrowly avoids falling down an open manhole, trying to make out the shape of whatever Minghao has under his jeans.

The second problem is Minghao. He’s not that much different than usual— not exactly. But there’s something in the way he holds himself that’s a departure. He’s lithe and possessive like a predator. When he isn’t touching Mingyu, Mingyu can still feel the heavy pressure of his attention.

Storm conditions. Mingyu’s helpless yearning is only made worse by the way Minghao revels in it.

Finally, late in the afternoon, Minghao must decide he’s had enough of the game he’s playing. They finish their lunch and before Minghao is back in the driver’s seat of his dad’s car, Minghao presses against his back and kisses the soft skin behind his ear.

“Take me home,” he says, voice soft. He puts one hand on Mingyu’s hip, stealing a squeeze of his thigh.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, his thoughts jumbled. “Yeah. Great— okay.”

Minghao laughs and kisses the same spot one more time before letting go and sauntering his way to the other side of the car, a smile on his face.

Mingyu drives them back and tries his best to keep his eyes off of Minghao the whole time.  


* * *

  
The house is blessedly empty when they get there and Mingyu drags Minghao back up the stairs, thanking his lucky stars the whole way.

He shoves the door closed behind them and crowds Minghao up against it, a helpless grin on his face. “_Now_ can I…?”

“No,” Minghao says, shaking his head and laughing. “Sit. I need a minute.”

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” Mingyu says, groaning and leaning his head against Minghao’s shoulder. From there, he kisses Minghao’s collarbone over his shirt, palms still flat against the door.

“Patience,” Minghao says, giving Mingyu a gentle shove. Mingyu sighs, dropping his hands and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I just have to change.”

“Change?” Mingyu repeats, his eyes glued to Minghao. Minghao nods, unzipping his suitcase again and pawing through the clothes in it. The item he’s looking for is in a plastic bag that rustles when he pulls it out, still hidden.

“You can get undressed,” Minghao says, already on his way out of the room. 

Mingyu does as he’s told— sheds his clothes all the way down to his underwear because it feels too awkward to wait around naked for Minghao to come back.

It takes him a few minutes to reappear, shutting the door quickly behind him. Mingyu stares, not sure what he should take in first.

None of Minghao’s teasing adequately prepared Mingyu for the reality. The _surprise_ that he picked out with Jeonghan is a corset of sheer white lace, bound tight around Minghao’s already slender waist. The panties— the ones he’s had on since the morning— are a match, white and scant. Mingyu’s head throbs with dull static.

“Are you surprised?” Minghao asks, gleeful.

Mingyu nods dumbly, unable to take his eyes off of Minghao. The lace frames his flat chest, the edging just below his collarbone. Minghao stops standing between Mingyu’s knees, putting both hands on his shoulders.

“Speechless?” His tone turns toward teasing but he’s right. Mingyu can’t think of a single thing to say at the moment.

He croaks Minghao’s name out, hands on his waist, feeling the lace. It’s soft like he promised on the phone.

It’s been like this for years. Mingyu has held Minghao like this hundreds— thousands of times. It hasn’t gotten old.

“You look,” Mingyu says, then shakes his head. There is no way to do it justice. It would be like trying to describe the intricate starry face of the heavens. Mingyu isn’t good enough with words to try.

He’s saved from his floundering when Minghao kisses him, slow and filthy, hands on either side of his jaw. He kneels on the bed, his hips over Mingyu’s, gripping onto Mingyu’s shoulders when he slides back to make more room. Minghao kisses him until it’s hard to breathe and when he lets up it’s only to continue his conquest with Mingyu’s neck instead.

Mingyu runs his hands over Minghao’s back, feeling the tight lacing of the corset and the small peeks of his skin between the ribbons. Mingyu should be reminding him not to leave marks but when Minghao’s teeth tease a bruise into his collarbone, he groans instead of scolding him.

“Sorry,” Minghao says, running his tongue over the throbbing spot. He doesn’t sound apologetic. He sits up, his hips settling down against Mingyu’s for the first time. It makes Mingyu gasp, surprised by the friction against his half-hard cock.

“I have something else,” Minghao says, delighted, devious.

“This isn’t enough?” Minghao asks, grinding his hips up against Minghao’s. Minghao shakes his head, rolling his cock down against Mingyu’s in return. The lace is struggling to hold him in place now that he’s hard, waistband trapping his dick against his stomach.

“Not yet,” Minghao says. He climbs off Mingyu’s lap and returns to his suitcase, leaving Mingyu to once again admire his ass. This time, it’s the way the lace frames the tops of his thighs and the knobs of his spine peek through the black ribbon lacing the corset shut.

Minghao pulls out two things from the suitcase. The first one Mingyu is familiar with— the obscene purple vibrator that Mingyu ordered off the internet one night in a drunken fit of bravery. It’s not the most remarkable toy they own, but it certainly gets the job done.

The other thing, Mingyu doesn’t recognize. It’s much smaller— too skinny to be lube and not shaped like any sex toy that Mingyu is familiar with. When Minghao approaches the bed again, Mingyu realizes it’s a tube of lipstick.

Minghao climbs into his lap again and Mingyu’s mouth goes dry, his tongue stuck to the roof.

“Wanna help?” Minghao says, dangling the lipstick in the space between the two of them. “I don’t have a mirror.”

Mingyu takes two sharp breaths before he nods, snatching the lipstick from Minghao’s fingers and carefully uncapping it. He twists it, putting his free hand on the side of Minghao’s face.

He’s seen Minkyung do this herself a thousand times, though this isn’t really the time he wants to be considering his little sister doing _anything_. He does a passable job, at least, covering Minghao’s lips in a layer of vibrant red. The tone is perfect for his skin— Mingyu wonders if he picked it out himself or had someone else help him with it. Mingyu closes the tube, tossing it carelessly onto the nightstand. Minghao takes one of his hands.

“Here.” He uncurls one of Mingyu’s fingers and purses his lips into an _o_. He closes his mouth around Mingyu’s finger, tongue only barely brushing against it.

Then he draws Mingyu’s hand back, grinning at the perfect ring of lipstick around Mingyu’s finger.

Minghao looks pleased with himself. Mingyu curls his fingers around the back of Minghao’s head and pulls him into another kiss. It makes Minghao sigh against his lips, smearing red onto Mingyu’s mouth as well.

He pushes Mingyu back against the bed, planting his weight on Mingyu’s shoulder to keep him there. He bends his neck, kissing the hollow of Mingyu’s throat. The red imprint of his lips remains on Mingyu’s skin and Minghao grins. He keeps going, blazing a red trail down Mingyu’s chest.

Mingyu has never loved another person the way he adores Minghao. He may not even be capable of it. There is no pretense or preamble— he can offer himself to Minghao in totality.

Minghao’s mouth stops at the waist of his underwear, lips turning up into a smile. Mingyu can feel the warm waves of his breath just shy of his hard cock and he squirms, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

“Should I guess where you keep the lube in here?” Minghao asks, looking up with his eyebrows lifted. Mingyu laughs, leaning one arm up over his head and batting the pillow out of the way, fishing the lube he left in his suitcase the last time they took a weekend away. He was glad to find it the other night when he called Minghao and he’s even gladder now.

Minghao laughs, reaching out and taking it from Mingyu, dropping it on the sheets and pulling Mingyu’s underwear down past his knees. Mingyu spreads his legs apart at Minghao’s encouragement, fisting one hand uselessly in the sheets.

He’s still content to take his time, it seems. Minghao kisses red marks on his thighs as well, nipping between them to leave the imprints of his teeth. Mingyu groans each time, his hips jerking uselessly up into nothing. 

“Minghao,” Mingyu says, gasping his name the name out. He’s going out of his way _not_ to touch Mingyu where he needs it. It’s starting to drive him crazy. Between his legs, Minghao laughs, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of Mingyu’s knee.

“What?” He asks, the very picture of false innocence. Mingyu means to keep complaining but he gets caught for a second staring at the white lace decorating the line of his neck.

There’s lipstick smeared around his lips, a perfect reflection of the stains around Mingyu’s mouth.

“You look so good,” Mingyu says, distracted, peeling his hand away from the sheets to run his fingers through Minghao’s jet black hair, pushing it out of his face. The razor edge of Minghao’s smile softens. He leans up on his palms to kiss Mingyu again.

“Lay back,” Minghao says, patting the bed next to Mingyu’s hip. “I gotta open you up, baby.”

“In that?” Mingyu says, looking at the outfit with his lips parted. In the past, Minghao has wanted Mingyu to fuck him when he dresses up like this. Mingyu is happy to give Minghao what he wants, no matter the positioning.

“In this,” Minghao says, his mouth against Mingyu’s still. “Lay back.”

Mingyu obeys this time, dragging one of the pillows over to stuff under his own hips, making it a little more comfortable. The cap opens with a dry click and Mingyu leans his head to the side to watch Minghao warm the lube between his fingers.

He closes his fingers around Mingyu’s cock, making Mingyu hiss a breath between his teeth. Minghao’s fingers are slightly cool and slippery the combined sensation makes Mingyu jerk. “Hao— fuck—”

Minghao only strokes him a few times before letting go. Mingyu melts back into the bed with a groan, leaning his head back to catch his breath.

He can hear the huff of Minghao’s laughter and he sticks his lip out in a pout. He starts to relax when two of Minghao’s fingers press his rim, slick, teasing. Mingyu groans when the first one slides in, all the air escaping his lungs at once.

Something silky and smooth brushes over his thigh and it doesn’t click together in Mingyu’s mind what it is until a moment too late. Minghao has the vibrator in its lower setting but when he touches the buzzing tip of it to the slit of Mingyu’s cock all his muscles tense, breath seizing up in his chest.

The rattle sets his teeth on edge, even while he’s trying to remind his body to _relax._ Minghao knows him too well. He’s never been good at multitasking.

“That feels good, doesn’t it baby?” Minghao asks, pleased with himself. He kisses the cap of Mingyu’s knee, dragging the vibrator down his cock. Mingyu jerks his head in a nod, gasping for air.

Minghao leans the vibrator against Mingyu’s hip, so it’s just touching the tip of Mingyu’s cock. He adds more lube, letting the cold fluid drip directly on Mingyu’s skin, working a second finger in.

Mingyu can hear how ragged his voice sounds, shattering every time it hits the air. Minghao isn’t aiming for efficiency— he’s too distracted rolling the vibrater back and forth over the head of Mingyu’s cock, trying to see what spot forces the loudest sound out of Mingyu. He ups the speed, the motor humming violently, shaking Mingyu down to the core.

“One more,” Mingyu says, squeezing his eyes shut. Minghao nods, pushing a third finger in slowly. The stretch makes his muscles ache in the most satisfying way. He arches his hips up toward Minghao’s hand, pulling uselessly at the sheets.

Minghao twists his wrist, the pads of his fingers brushing Mingyu’s prostate. The hard edge of Mingyu’s orgasm hits him all at once— a spark from a completed circuit. His vision goes blurry at the edges, muscles contracting around Minghao’s fingers.

“Oh.” Minghao sounds surprised for real. He shuts the vibrator off and tosses it to the side, wrapping his fingers around Mingyu’s cock instead. The change almost hurts and Mingyu whines, twisting, not sure if he’s trying to escape or not. “Too much?”

“‘M okay,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. There’s a pearly smear of come on his stomach. When Mingyu’s legs stop trembling, Minghao pulls his fingers out. Mingyu reaches out for him blindly, closing his fingers around Minghao’s wrist. “I’m good… just— one second.”

Minghao nods, twisting so Mingyu’s hand is in his grasp, kissing his palm, the delicate skin inside his wrist. It probably isn’t that surprising that Mingyu wants to go again— the first time was such a shock that he doesn’t really feel _satisfied_. Pressed against Minghao’s thigh, he’s still half hard.

Minghao settles against him, chest-to-chest, kissing Mingyu’s bare shoulder. He isn’t heavy enough for his weight to be uncomfortable— Mingyu likes it, in fact. It makes him feel present, grounded, adored. He wraps his arms around Minghao in return, biting the pale skin of his neck and letting Minghao roll his hips in search of friction.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, when he’s satisfied with the dark bitemark he’s left on Minghao’s collarbone.

“Okay?” Minghao repeats, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. He sits up when Mingyu nods, kissing him briefly before sitting up to dig the lube out from the sheets.

He only shoves the panties far enough down his hips to be out of the way of slicking lube over his cock. Mingyu can hardly blame him for the impatience.

Mingyu is relaxed and open when Minghao pushes his cock in, the tension already wrung out of his muscles. Minghao gasps, his eyes fluttering shut, hands framing Mingyu’s hips. Mingyu’s hands slide up his sides, feeling the lace that stretches tight over his ribs.

“God… Mingyu—” Minghao grunts when he bottoms out, shaking his head. He grinds their hips slowly together and Mingyu shudders, his nails sliding over the lace in search of a place to grip. “You’re so good, baby. You feel perfect.”

He circles his arms around Minghao, digging the blunt edges of his nails into Minghao’s bare shoulders. He lets himself be pulled flat against Mingyu’s chest, kissing the hollow of his throat.

Minghao’s first few slow thrusts are easy to take. Mingyu mouths at the lobe of Minghao’s ear and strangles his voice down to tiny sounds that he knows will only drive Minghao out of his mind. Minghao levels his weight against the bed, hitching one of Mingyu’s knees up around his waist for better leverage.

He doesn’t speed up, only drives his hips forward hard and slow. Mingyu rolls his hips up, tightening his leg around Minghao’s waist. Minghao turns his head to press his lips to Mingyu’s. He kisses Mingyu lazily, exchanging air, more focused on driving the steady rhythm of his hips.

Mingyu could try begging Minghao to fuck him faster— harder— he kind of wants to. But Minghao won’t go with it. He’s not trying to push either one of them fast and hard over the edge. He stays slow, taking the time to savor it. He fucks Mingyu like that until he’s liquid against the bed. Languid and spoiled with pleasure.

He doesn’t beg, or pout, or needle Minghao in hope of more. He absorbs every ounce of love Minghao is willing to give him and still feels greedy for more. When Minghao speeds up, Mingyu groans, nails dragging thin welts down his back. He drags his hands down until his fingers tangle in the dark lacing of the corset, hitching his hips up higher.

The angle grinds Minghao’s cock along his prostate with each thrust and that makes the urgent heat roar back to life in Mingyu’s stomach like a wildfire. He presses his face into Minghao’s shoulder, mouthing at the salty skin of his neck and mumbling whatever fractured bits of affection come to mind. How he feels so _good_ and _filled up_. He babbles about how he loves Minghao more than anyone— more than _anything… _

Minghao bites down on his lower lip to muffle a long groan, pumping his hips twice out of rhythm before he grips Mingyu’s hips and comes inside of him. He wraps one hand around Mingyu’s cock, stroking unevenly, still rolling his hips. Mingyu shudders his way through orgasm, drawn far past what he can actually sustain. It only adds to the mess— Minghao’s lipstick, bites, smears of come.

When he starts to twitch away in oversensitivity, Minghao releases him, collapsing on Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu kisses the top of his head, rolling to the side and tangling his long limbs around Minghao, caging him in place.

“I love you too,” Minghao says when he’s caught his breath again. “But you can’t keep me here all day.”

“Don’t get up yet,” Mingyu says, worn out, eyes shut. “It’s comfy.”

“You’re a mess,” Minghao says, kissing the tip of his nose. “C’mon. A shower will make you feel better.”

“Only if you prop me up,” Mingyu says, a little grin on his face.

“Fine,” Minghao says, puffing the word out in a sigh.  


* * *

  
Mingyu peels the corset off of Minghao’s chest and kisses the pattern of lace imprinted into his skin.

In the shower, Minghao gets distracted with two of his fingers inside Mingyu and ends up working him through a third orgasm— dry, trembling under the hot spray of the shower.

The second the bed is in sight, Mingyu passes out.  


* * *

  
When he opens his eyes again, the room is dark. Minghao is there, flipping through one of Mingyu’s old paperbacks with a faint smile on his face.

“It’s our anniversary back home,” he says when Mingyu stirs. Mingyu sits up, hooking his chin over Minghao’s shoulder to read the book with him.

“I fell asleep that long?” Mingyu says, kissing just under Minghao’s ear. His hair is dry now.

“A few hours,” Minghao says, nodding slightly.

“It was a good surprise,” Mingyu says, hiding his smile against the side of Minghao’s neck. “You should, um, keep all of that.”

Minghao only hums in response, but Mingyu can see the grin on his face.


End file.
